


And They Call It… You Know, by sw33tch3rrypi3

by fanfairmod



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amputation reference, Artist Draco Malfoy, Disabled Harry Potter, Dogs, H/D Pet Fair 2016, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Minor Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini, Physical Disability, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfairmod/pseuds/fanfairmod
Summary: Author: sw33tch3rrypi3Harry and Draco are at the crossroads of what should be and what never was, and all that stands in the way is someone making an overture. Enter their friends, who devise a meet cute involving a pair of horny dogs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Momatu, thank you for this adorable prompt! I took a bit of artistic license with it, which I hope you won’t mind! This was a very different type of fic for me, and I hope that you enjoy it.
> 
> Thank you so much to our moderators, and endless gratitude to my beta, enchanted_jae!
> 
> For [Prompt #12](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Td1Xj4ZNIqFDdQLtMpkOWEqn2hI5TEx8tEtrEU1u1U8/edit).  
>  

“I’m telling you, something has to be done. It’s unhealthy. He’s my best friend, and I love him, I really do. But lately he has two modes: ‘Nobody likes me’ and ‘I hate Potter.’”

Neville rolled onto his side, the sheet sliding farther down his hip. He repressed a grin as his bed partner’s eyes tracked the movement. “Harry’s just as bad. It’s like I told you. When he’s not hiding, he’s on about how Malfoy won’t even come fetch his wand and what that must _mean_.” Nev’s deep bass suddenly slid up an octave. “ _He could be a little grateful that I kept him out of Azkaban! Not that I_ need _his thanks. It just shows what a rude wanker he is. Speaking of rude, do you remember when he…”_ He heaved a sigh and fell back into his normal speech pattern. “We’re all bloody sick of it.”

Slender fingers reached out and carded through Neville’s hair soothingly. “Then you must agree. It’s up to us to do something, and I have a plan.” Golden hazel eyes peeked up through long, dark lashes. “Of course, it will require _assistance_ …”

Nev looked nonplussed for a beat and then rolled onto his back, covering his face with his hands. “Blaise, no. That bloody bint hates me.”

Blaise Zabini reached over and gently tugged on Neville’s arms until he lowered his hands and their eyes met. “She does _not_ hate you.”

“Oh yes, she does. Haven’t you seen her giving me stink eye every time she’s here?”

Blaise blinked. “That’s not stink eye love, that’s just her face.”

Neville budged up to lean back against the headboard. “She thought the two of you would ride off into the sunset after Hogwarts, and she blames me, I know it.”

“Nev, I coordinated her eyeshadow palette for her second year. If she thought I was going to share a ride with her, I guarantee you it was a fit Brazilian, not a bloody broom into the bloody sunset.”

The Gryffindor sighed again and eyed his boyfriend. “We can’t help Harry and Malfoy without her?”

Blaise shrugged. “Well, we _could_ …but I already have such a _good_ plan. And yes, I need Pansy’s help. Just…be civil and ignore her sour expressions and everything will be fine.” He slid a hand beneath the covers to pet Neville’s firm thigh.

Neville looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded decisively. “Okay then, be sure to tell me your plan later.”

“Later?”

He grinned, rolling over atop Blaise and sliding his fingers into glossy black curls. “Much later.”

 

*S*

Pansy chewed her lip nervously, watching two small, fluffy dogs wrestle and tumble about on her living room rug. “Are you _sure_ they’ll be okay?”

“Of course!” Blaise said hearteningly. “You know how much Draco secretly loves animals, and Potter…”

She waved a hand. “I know, I know. Potter would guard a sentient piece of _lint_ with his life.”

Blaise chuckled. “It’s a stroke of luck that Draco hasn’t dropped by since he got back from France, so he hasn’t met Poppy or Simon.”

“Is that the only reason you want to use them? Surely we could find _other_ dogs…” Pansy trailed off as she realized that Blaise’s gaze was directed toward the rug, and that the sounds coming from her beloved purebreds had significantly changed.

“That’s not the only reason,” Neville laughed, as Pansy vainly attempted to pull the copulating pair apart.

“Penelope Eugenia! Simon Collier! You stop that right now! I don’t want you to do that for at least six more months!”

“ _That’s_ why we need Poppy and Simon,” Blaise said, and Neville nodded.

Pansy looked from her unrepentant, smiling pups to her best friend and his boyfriend, and back again. Finally, she sighed. “Oh, fine.”

 

*S*

Draco was delicately squeezing the tiniest bit of Prussian blue into the too-teal puddle of paint on his palette when Blaise’s distinctive ring-the-bell-multiple-times-using-utterly-no-rhythm-whatsoever-to-maximize-Draco’s-annoyance style chimed through his house followed by the sound of his front door opening and footsteps overhead. Frowning in irritation, he recapped the tube and wiped his hands on the stained flannel from his worktable, ensuring that there were no wet splotches of color to be accidentally swiped onto clothing or furniture. What had already dried, however, left his hands still speckled with black and white, orange and yellow, midnight and violet.

Blaise paused in the doorway to the tiny basement room-turned-studio, examining the large, partly finished canvas. He whistled, long and low. “That may just be the best thing you’ve ever done.”

His comment went a long way toward dispelling Draco’s irritation at the interruption, and by the time he stood to shake hands as Blaise came down the steps, he was smiling. “Thank you. Let’s hope the gallery thinks so. What are you doing away from the Ministry in the middle of the afternoon, Mr. Undersecretary?”

Blaise looked guilty, and he bit his lip. Draco crossed his arms and gave him a stern look. Blaise only acted rueful when he wanted something, and this dramatic version meant it must be something big.

“Out with it.”

“Well, it’s like this…I bought a present for Nev. Only, he just Flooed and said that they’re being sent out of town until next week, and I can’t take her with me to work…” he trailed off, sighing.

“Her?” Draco’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Her who?” he asked, just as a well-timed bark came from the hallway. He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You didn’t.”

“She must have gotten out of her carrier,” Blaise muttered, rushing out and picking up a small, fluffy bit of fawn-colored fur. He presented her to Draco. “Her name is Poppy. She’s the sweetest thing. No trouble at all, really.”

Draco thought that Poppy looked sad, and perhaps a bit irritated. But he _did_ have a soft spot for animals, and dogs in particular. He turned his attention back to Blaise, who had continued speaking what Draco was in a happy haze of puppy breath.

“…you’re the only person I know who can be home enough for her. I’m sure she won’t be in the way,” Blaise rushed on, anticipating rejection.

Draco stared him down for several seconds before reaching out to take the dog, who immediately tilted her head back and licked his chin. “You will owe me, Zabini.”

Blaise smiled.

“Are you sure you didn’t pick this dog for _you_? I’m fairly certain Longbottom is more the mastiff type. And…is that a lavender bow on her head? Yes, you definitely picked her for you.”

Blaise frowned.

 

*S*

“…and I had no idea they would send us today, and you’d really be helping me out of a pickle, Harry. It would just be until next Friday, I swear.”

Harry Potter looked up from where he sat cross-legged in his entry, playing with the small, fluffy black dog that chased his wriggling fingers. “Yeah, of course. It’s not a problem, mate. I’ve been thinking about adopting a dog, anyway. This is a good way to try it out, yeah?”

Neville smiled. “Thanks. That’s a load off my mind. I didn’t want you to feel like I was taking advantage of the fact that you…er…Well, that you’re home,” Neville finished awkwardly.

Harry returned the smile, knowing there was nothing malicious in Neville’s stuttering. He reached up and, with forearms straining, levered back into his chair. The spelled contraption, which floated about two inches above the ground, bobbed a bit as he dropped into the seat and then used the joystick to turn so that he faced his friend head-on. “No worries. Want to come in for tea?” He pushed the joystick left and maneuvered so that there was room for Neville to pass into the house. “Don’t mind the chair, I wasn’t planning to go out, so I couldn’t be arsed with the prosthetic spell today.”

Neville squeezed his shoulder as he passed, and Harry called Kreacher to bring them tea into the living room for them. He enjoyed Neville’s visits; he was one of the few friends Harry had who could hold a conversation without his eyes straying every few seconds to the stump where the rest of Harry’s left leg should have been.

*S*

“Poppy! Heel! Heel, girl! Slow down, damn it!” Draco rushed along behind the dog, holding her leash as she catapulted down the pavement. For such a little thing, she was _strong_ , and he worried about injuring her if he pulled too hard. The moment they’d stepped out of the door she had taken off, seeming to have a destination in mind. Draco sniffed the air, but he couldn’t detect the succulent odor of a food truck nearby, and he was miles from a butcher. All he could do was hold on and find out where they were headed when Poppy decided they had arrived.

After about four blocks, she stopped abruptly in front of a gray, stone house sandwiched between two others and bluntly abutting the pavement. Draco was struck by a vague sense of familiarity as Poppy wagged her little puffball of a tail happily before plopping her bum right in front of the bright red door. She tilted her head and grinned a doggy grin at him, her tongue flopping out of the side of her mouth.

“Oh, no.” Draco tried to sound firm, but he couldn’t help letting out an incredulous little laugh. “We do not visit strangers. Now come, let’s finish our walk.” He tugged on Poppy’s leash carefully, but she didn’t budge. Instead, her brow lowered and he could swear her bottom lip poked out. This dog was _pouting_!

“Stop that! I cannot just knock on the door and say, ‘Hello, ever so sorry, but my dog thought she would come visit you today. Will you invite us in?’”

Poppy growled.

“See here, perhaps in _your_ world you can run up and give a bum a bit of a sniff and all is well, but in _my_ world--”

“ _Who’s there?”_

Draco blinked and then grimaced as a muffled voice came from the other side of the door. Great, this was probably a Muggle house. He wasn’t good at Muggle conversation. Weather, he could talk about the weather. And, er, ale? He cleared his throat and put on his most charming voice, even though he glared down at Poppy, who suddenly looked much happier.

“I’m so sorry, I was out walking my dog and--”

_“I don’t do interviews. Go away, or I’ll call the Aurors.”_

That _voice_. It was so familiar, though muffled. _Aurors?_ Wait…

“Interviews? _Potter?!”_

Several seconds passed, and then the door cracked open. Poppy immediately began trying to wedge herself inside the house as Harry Potter’s face appeared. “Malfoy?”

Draco swallowed. Never, ever would he have been prepared for this moment. He’d had a vague plan of hiding out until his parole ended and then fleeing the country to avoid this meeting. He couldn’t muddle through the conversation they were about to have by mumbling about the possibility of rain.

*S*

Harry opened the door a bit wider, and a tan streak went past him trailing something pink.

“Damn! Sorry Potter, she ripped it right out of my hand. Are you cooking steak, by chance?”

Harry watched Draco roll his shoulders inward and shove his hands into the pockets of his gray wool peacoat. He was trying so hard to disappear, it was sort of…adorable.

Harry smiled tentatively. “Nah, she probably smelled another dog in the house.” Just then, a faint series of growls and yips floated in from the kitchen. His eyes went wide, and Harry turned and started limping down the hall using his cane. “Come on in, shut the door behind you.”

Without checking that Draco had followed, Harry hurried to the kitchen, wishing he was in his chair as a bit of perspiration broke out on his brow. He came to an abrupt halt when he found the dogs, doing the opposite of what he had expected, in front of the refrigerator. He gaped.

“I dropped my coat over the sofa, I hope you don’t…mind…” Draco came panting up behind Harry, trailing off when he realized what they were witnessing.

“Er, should we stop them?” Harry asked.

Draco snorted. “How?”

Harry snickered, and then cleared his throat. “Well, I guess we should give them some privacy, then?” He turned and pushed gently by, thumping into the living room. As he dropped into the wingchair by the fireplace, he watched Draco enter with all the enthusiasm of someone on their way to face a firing squad. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not mad at you, Draco.”

Draco sat gingerly on the edge of the sofa and studied his shoes. “You ought to be.”

Harry made a dismissive noise as he rolled up his trouser leg to the knee and ended the prosthetic spell that always caused a slightly unpleasant sensation while it was in effect. He watched Draco blatantly study his stump, and was surprised when he then met his eyes instead of awkwardly looking away.

“You seem to be doing well.”

Harry tilted his head in acknowledgment. “No thanks to…” He trailed off, realizing he was entering sensitive territory.

“It’s alright,” Draco murmured. “At least he’s gone. He can’t hurt anyone else.”

“I thought you might be mad, that I didn’t testify for him.”

Draco shook his head. “You kept me out of Azkaban. And Mother. That was already more than I expected.” He chuckled without humor. A beat went by while he stared at the carpet, and Harry wondered what he was thinking. The low, growly sounds of canine coitus filled the background.

Finally, grey eyes rose to meet green. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

It was just a whisper, but Harry knew how much that had taken. He nodded. “I have your wand,” he said quickly. “It’s put away upstairs, but if you’re not in a hurry I can find it.”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, and was interrupted by the happy yips of the two dogs tumbling into the living room, the deed done. He pursed his lips and shook his head.

“We should be getting home. I had only planned a short walk, and it will be curfew for me soon.”

Harry shrugged, trying not to look disappointed as Draco slipped into his coat.

“We…We could come another day?” the blond offered tentatively.

Harry grinned. “Brilliant. Come for tea tomorrow, if you like. I’ll be around all day, writing.”

Draco nodded and gave him a small but genuine smile. He reached down and took the end of Poppy’s leash, then tilted his head, studying the dogs sitting together on the rug.

“Potter, do you find it strange that…”

Harry, caught up in the flip-flop feeling of watching Draco’s profile with the fading sunlight streaming through the window behind him wasn’t paying any attention. “Huh? What’s strange?”

Draco’s lips curved slowly into a smile, but he kept his eyes carefully on Poppy. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”

 

*S*

Standing and moving toward the steps, Draco turned and gave the nearly-completed canvas one last critical look in the fading light. Yes, perhaps a bit more shadow on the left side would achieve the emotional response he was seeking from the gallery viewers. With a decisive nod, he climbed up to the first floor and shut the studio door behind him. He had learned the day before that Poppy found his tubes of paint tantalizing. Thankfully it was non-toxic, but he’d spent over an hour scrubbing a rainbow of shades from her fur.

He stretched the kinks from his spine. Things had gone well at tea, he’d thought. Harry had returned Draco’s wand. However, finding that it was still sluggish under his magic, Draco decided to stick with his new, lighter wand and had good-naturedly returned the infamous one, telling Harry to keep it as a souvenir. They’d talked about mutual acquaintances and what they had been doing since graduation. Harry spoke openly about the attempts by St. Mungo’s to regrow his leg, and then the therapy and learning to use his chair and the prosthetic spell. Draco was shy to tell him about his painting at first, but under Harry’s gentle prodding he found himself explaining that it was mentally healing and a good way to make money when his name and parole kept other employment out of reach.

They did _not_ talk about the dogs. They had tried shutting them in separate rooms, but there was a real danger of the doors being destroyed. They had tried redirecting them and keeping Poppy on her leash, but nothing worked against that sort of sheer determination. Finally, Draco had shrugged and left them to it. He figured Blaise could deal with the fallout of what he had planned – _everything_ he had planned.

Blaise was clearly up to something. Draco would be damned (if he wasn’t already) if those two dogs hadn’t met before. Thankfully, Harry was fairly oblivious, and any time he seemed close to figuring it out, Draco changed the subject. He should be irritated at Blaise for meddling, but he felt so much better having cleared the air that he had decided to let it go. Whether his friend had intended anything _more_ than urging that initial meeting, he wasn’t certain, and so dealing with Blaise was on the back burner.

Draco checked the clock and frowned slightly when he realized that it was almost four. Perhaps it was a bit presumptuous, but he’d thought he would hear from Harry today. He was certain the man had been ogling him at their first meeting, and at times the day before he had even seemed to be flirting. Draco opened the cabinet and took down a package of biscuits for tea. He transferred them to a plate as five more minutes passed with no knock on the door or sound from the Floo. He scowled. He hated Potter.

Draco quickly made up the rest of the tray and levitated it into the living room with Poppy trailing at his heels. “Wanker,” he muttered. “As if I want to spend more time with him than I have to, anyhow.” He settled down and poured out his tea, dumping two heaping spoonfuls of sugar into the cup.

Harry had known how he liked his tea without asking.

“Fuck, forget it. It doesn’t matter,” he scolded himself. He took a long, scalding sip and Poppy sat down and tipped her head at him, giving him a pitying look. “Oh, shut up.”

 

*S*

Harry grunted as he took several more laborious steps. He had let Simon out in the back garden to do his business, and the damned dog had found a weak spot Harry hadn’t even known existed in the fence to push beneath. He’d hoped Simon had only managed to get a few streets away in the time it took him to enact the spell and grab his cane. There was no way he was going out in the chair.

As he drew closer to the newer edge of the neighborhood where Draco mentioned he lived now, Harry’s heart sank. He had reckoned this would be Simon’s ultimate destination, but he’d hoped to catch up with him sooner and avoid facing his ex-rival. The little flip-flop from their first meeting had grown into a full-blown thump-thump-thump during tea, and he was worried he had revealed too much. He didn’t want Draco to spend time with him out of any motivation like pity, and surely the stunning blond had better things to do than sit around with a broken mostly-recluse.

He reached the bottom of the steps and spied Simon just crossing the stoop to paw at the door. “Stop that!” he hissed. “Bad dog! Come here right now!”

Harry slowly began climbing the steps, concentrating on making the spell bend the pale blue, glowing, transparent mimicry of a leg at its knee to aid him. He was on the third stair and stepping onto the last when the door opened and Simon immediately shoved past Draco and into the house. He smirked at Harry and raised a brow. “I am beginning to feel like Lord Caputlet.”

Harry gave a wheezy chuckle and leaned against the house. “Sorry. He got out and I wasn’t fast enough to catch him.”

Draco stepped back from the doorway and motioned Harry to come in. “You would have been in the chair,” he said neutrally, leading Harry to the living room. “Water?”

Harry nodded gratefully, but glowered as Draco conjured a glass and filled it with an _aguamenti_. “Yeah, and then someone would have taken a picture.”

“And that bothers you?” Draco retreated to his chair and picked up his teacup.

“Of course is bloody bothers me,” Harry groused. He rolled his eyes and sighed, then raised his voice to be heard over the now-familiar background cadence. “I don’t want to be a pitiable figure.”

Draco chuckled, which turned into enough of a laugh that he had to be careful of his tea. “Who the hell would pity you?”

Harry blinked at him. “You don’t?”

He watched Draco look around his small, if well-kept, home, saw him blatantly examine the spelled golden ring around his wrist that constantly logged his movements and would for six more months, saw him lift his free hand and touch his chest. Finally, the man looked directly at him.

“Not one little bit. It’s all the same shit, Harry. It is all. The same. Shit.”

Harry felt something lift from his shoulders for the first time in over a year. He smiled.

 

*S*

Draco double-checked his hair in the mirror next to the door.

“Can’t see the nerves on the outside, love,” it twittered.

Draco grinned and gave it a salute, and then affirmed that Poppy’s harness and leash were secure. He and Harry had seen each other three more times since Simon’s escape, twice at Harry’s and once at Draco’s. All three appointments…meetings…dates? had been incited by human contact. Harry had owled that morning and asked them to meet him at the park adjacent to their neighborhood. It was dog-friendly, and there was a small dog off-leash area. Draco was still sceptical, but Harry had argued that with the cool weather and school being in, there wasn’t likely to be anyone else there. Just him and Harry.

And Granger and Weasley.

Draco took a deep breath and opened the door. Apparently, they had all promised to be civil to each other. But Harry was going out in public in his chair for the first time, and he wanted them there. He told Draco that he had explained to Granger and Weasley that they were friends now. While Draco had winced a bit at “friends,” he silently cursed himself for being an idiot and insisted that he understood.

It was a short walk to the park, but he pulled his stocking cap down further over the tips of his ears against the wind as they crossed the street. Some of his hair got caught, and as he attempted to free it, the lead accidentally slipped from his hand. With a groan of resignation, Draco took off after Poppy, who was rabbiting toward the center of the park at full-speed. He leaped over the railing demarking the park and sprinted toward the sound of ecstatic barking.

“Draco!” Harry looked up and greeted him with a smile. He had his chair pulled up next to a bench, where Weasley and Granger sat, apparently tossing small pieces of bread to the birds also present in the park.

“Harry. Granger.” Draco panted, nodding at them in turn. “…Weasley.”

Ron grinned. “Don’t put yourself out, Malfoy. Looked like you were trying not to shit your pants.”

Granger rolled her eyes and Harry snickered, but somehow it was exactly the right thing to say. Draco shook his head with a small smile, checked around carefully and then conjured a folding chair next to Harry. They watched the two dogs sniff each other rapturously. “Er,” Draco said. “Did you…”

“Warn them?” Harry asked. He grinned when Draco nodded. “Oh yeah.”

As the dogs began their favorite pastime, Granger delicately cleared her throat and averted her eyes. “I saw your show last month at the Eastman Gallery, Malfoy. It was brilliant.”

“Thank you,” Draco said politely. “I was rather proud of that series, though it is quite dark. Most of my pieces are brighter now. There’s going to be another showing in March.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to put it on my calendar,” she replied. “I’m…glad that you’re feeling better.”

Draco gave her another faint smile as Harry looked between them in confusion.

“Wha…?”

“It’s art-speak, Harry,” Hermione said, waving a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey,” Ron said thoughtfully, “aren’t those Pansy Parkinson’s dogs?”

Draco sat up sharply. “Pansy’s dogs?!”

“Yeah, they look just like them. She has a big picture on her desk, where a photograph of her boyfriend would be. You know, if she had one.”

Draco chuckled, surprised to find that he shared an inside joke with Weasley, who had apparently gotten to know Pansy during their time in Auror training together.

Harry looked at Draco. “You would know if they were Pansy’s dogs though, right?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t seen Pansy since Mother and I returned from Father’s burial. If she has dogs, she obtained them recently. Blaise told me he needed me to keep Poppy because she’s a present for Longbottom, but he went out of the country unexpectedly.”

“Nev’s not out of the country,” Ron said, frowning. “Just saw him at work yesterday.”

Harry looked at Simon, then back at Ron. “Are you sure? He asked me to keep Simon because he’d promised to dog-sit for a friend but had to go to Italy.”

Granger covered her mouth with a mittened hand, giggling. “Oh, dear.”

Draco smirked and raised a brow. “Not exactly master strategists, are they?”

All four looked back to the mating dogs.

“I don’t know,” Ron said slowly. “I reckon they did okay. Dogs are supposed to be good judges of character, you know.”

Draco slid his gloved hand into Harry’s, and felt the brunet squeeze his fingers.

“Mummy, what are those doggies _doing?”_

_“OH MY GOD! CLOSE YOUR EYES, JONAH!”_

 

One Year Later

Draco carefully fastened the pure white orchid to Harry’s lapel. His boyfriend was wearing his prosthetic for the occasion, though he was growing increasingly confident going out in public in his chair. It didn’t matter one bit to Draco, but it was important to Harry to stand today. He had a brand-new cane of polished white oak, and though he’d teased Draco that he would look for one with a snake head or a gold tip, neither was present, thankfully.

“Everything’s perfect,” Draco sighed wistfully, after giving Harry’s jacket a final tug. Harry leaned in and kissed him softly, just a careful peck. He’d held his breath for the first six months, certain that something would go irreparably wrong. So far though, amazingly, things only got better.

They had been plenty miffed when they’d gone to see Pansy the day after the park outing, and returned Poppy and Simon. Draco had to admit that he had gotten attached to his little monster, and Harry had trained Simon to do simple tasks to make his life easier, like picking up things he dropped and jumping up on the chair to give them to Harry and fetching small items like his wand or magazines from other rooms. Pansy had been plenty glad to have them back, and when they had told her about all of the…activity…she had rolled her eyes and promised them pick of the litter to soothe their ire.

Draco had taken the opening to suggest that he and Harry share a living space, so that they could share a dog. For the first few months they had maintained separate rooms, but by month four they were well and truly living together in Grimmauld Place, which Draco was slowly making over with Harry’s approval. Pansy had been true to her word, and they had added a chocolate brown bundle of fluff named Juliet to their household. They were all but official.

Draco saw Harry off and then took his own place. The event was being held on the luscious green grounds of the Parkinsons’ vacation home in Curacao. The day was perfect, with fluffy white clouds drifting across the blue expanse of sky as the strains of violins signaled that the grooms were entering.

Neville and Blaise walked hand-in-hand toward Kingsley Shacklebolt, who stood under an arch covered in more tropical blooms. They were both beaming, and Harry – Neville’s confidant – shook their hands as they reached the end of the aisle. Blaise’s half-brother was serving as his attendant. Draco caught Hermione looking at him from the corner of her eye.

“What?” he whispered.

“I never, literally never, though I would say this, Malfoy, but…I can’t imagine this turning out any other way,” she murmured.

“What, Neville and Blaise?”

She shook her head. Draco shoulder-bumped her, which knocked her into Ron on her other side. Ron put his arm around her, and Draco turned his attention back to Harry.

 

*S*

The vows were thankfully short, because everyone was ready to dance and enjoy the repast of rich seafood and tropical fruit. They were waiting for the music to start when Harry, with one arm around Draco, waved across the room and nodded. Thankfully, Draco was busy speaking with someone and didn’t notice. Just as the music started up, a cacophony of barks and whines began, growing louder with each passing second. The music was abruptly shut off.

“Oh _no_ ,” Draco muttered, turning toward the house. Poppy and Simon and their new brood of four were running, scrambling and tumbling toward the reception. Behind them was Juliet, paws flying, ears flapping in the breeze. Draco gasped.

“Harry, Juliet is here,” he said, looking stunned into immobility as others rushed around trying to gather the escaped pups. “Why is she here?! She’s supposed to be at home with the sitter!”

Harry just grinned as he watched Draco cross the lawn, trying to get close to Juliet, who was chasing her tail in circles. He followed slowly, not wanting Draco to feel pursued, but not letting anyone come between them.

“Harry, she has something! There’s something little and shiny on her tail! She could swallow it!” Draco, distressed and oblivious to the fact that most of the crowd was now still and watching them with knowing grins, continued to approach their dog.

Harry cleared his throat, feeling choked up. “Well then, you should check it out and take it away from her. And then say yes.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/118388.html).


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